Ghost of Christmas Past
by Mizu-chan
Summary: The one year anniversary of the final battle falls on Christmas Eve. Hermione is having trouble finding the holiday spirit and believes she never will. One-shot, post-war, Dramione.


Mizu-chan's Notes: I wrote this one-shot for a Dramione Super!Fast!Exchange!... but I ended up missing the cut-off date for sign-up. I didn't really understand what an exchange was, anyway so it was all right. I'm kinda new to the whole "fandom" thing for Harry Potter even though I've loved Dramione for about three years. Who knew so many other people agreed! Well, I hope you all enjoy Ghost of Christmas Past (I was really stuck on a title). As it is my very first Harry Potter fic of all time, constructive criticism is very, very welcome! But be gentle with me. Hehe, enjoy!

Ghost of Christmas Past

"Merry Christmas, lady," a small voice near the ground shouted.

The hard eyes of the woman strolling by melted for a mere second as she glanced down to the young girl staring earnestly up at her. Hermione knelt down, patting the child on the head. "Yes, Merry Christmas," she murmured before standing back up.

The witch continued on her way as the mother herded her daughter closer. She gave her young one a tight, shielding hug as though to protect her from all the sadness emanating from the passing Hermione. A mother would never be able to stand seeing her daughter so destroyed.

Hermione continued her wandering through the dazzling lights of the city. It was such a trivial holiday. Too much time was wasted every year on long lines, faulty lighting, and holiday cooking. But that was just what she needed. She envied regular humans for their trivial problems. Just once she wanted to lose her thoughts in checking every single festive light bulb instead of just magically decorating for the holidays. What would life have been like if she had stayed plain, old Hermione Granger?

The breath she had been holding for far too long finally escaped in a low, sigh as she arrived at her destination. Her fingers wrapped themselves around the doorknob and she winced. It had been one year, yet she still wasn't ready for any sort of celebration. Ignoring her own pleas, Hermione tugged the door open and stepped into the spectacular party.

"Hermione!" Ron's excited voice filled the air as he wrapped thin arms tightly around his childhood friend. He decidedly ignored her stiff shoulders and just continued on in his own rambling. "I'm so surprised you showed up. Merry Christmas! What have you been up to? Wow, a year, eh? Such a long time, I feel so old already."

"You're only eighteen. You've your entire life ahead of you," Hermione responded. Even she was a bit shocked at the savage bitter tone she had adopted. Her eyes glanced up to Ron just fast enough to catch his uncomfortable wince. She sighed, looking around for other familiar faces.

"Hermione.." Harry sidled closer. His face was tight with hesitation. He gently placed a hand on her bony shoulder, as though frightened his touch would shatter her. "Merry Christmas."

"Mhm, Merry Christmas," Hermione said absently as she abruptly headed towards the refreshment table. The only familiar face she truly wanted to see this night was the one who would never appear. She poured herself a cup of some sort of magical eggnog, gulping down the bile rising to her throat as those thoughts taunted her.

Her eyes floated down to rest upon the band of gold surrounding her ring finger. It was large and clumsy, meant for a much more masculine hand. Idly she twisted it around while sipping down her drink.

_"After all this is over, you really should think about proposing," she teased, leaning into his figure. _

_"Now, I thought we were equal," was his sultry response. He looked down at her with a devilish grin, nipping her bottom lip. "Why should I have to be on bended knee? Equality, remember? Sweetheart?" By then he had leaned down, filling her ear with his raspy voice and cinnamon breath. She melted right then with a giggle and a nod._

Who knew he could make her giggle so much? No one ever had such a power. It wasn't that she was a miserable girl. She was just never prone to childish laughter. Even when others were talking to her, her mind would be whisking her off onto another project. But he made her stand up straight and pay attention. Whenever he was in room, her mind would be nowhere near the clouds. His words drew her in. Maybe that's when she finally learned there was more to life. He woke her up.

Hermione found a chair in the corner to slink herself into. Had it really been a mere year? She was only eighteen but in her mind she had already lived a thousands lives. Her bones were fine but her heart was brittle. She watched as everyone else celebrated the holiday with bright smiles. Everyone had lost someone. Why was she the only one still so destroyed? Her grip tightened around her glass. Was she destined for such a lonely life of watching happiness flourish from a spectator's seat?

_The war was going strong. She actually enjoyed it a bit. Battles, schemes, and strategies allowed her to exercise her smarts and win because of them. It almost gave her a chilling sort of thrill every time her pre-planned ambushes or formations resulted in a victory. Her hands were bloody, yes, but she had never killed someone he knew. It was an unspoken agreement between the two when neither could abandon their posts on opposite ends of the war. When she saw Crabbe caught during a raid she had let the boy out through the back door with hurried, desperate whispers passed between the two. And when she had seen Lavender's dazed, confused expression after a small skirmish Hermione knew he was playing the same. It breathed hope into the young girl that after the battle they'd fall back in step with each other. In the world they created for themselves, politics were never an issue._

Hermione was jostled from her usual reverie by a shake on her shoulder. She glanced up to Ron's annoyed eyes. "C'mon, Hermione, smile at least. It has been a year, you know?" he offered nervously.

"Ron!' Harry nearly shouted with a horrified expression plastered to his face. He grabbed his best friend roughly, glaring up at the taller boy. "Why do you have to be such a stupid git?"

_Hermione pranced around the hallway of Hogwarts, waiting for the rest of her crew to return triumphant. It was the last battle. She didn't care about the fate of the world; she just wanted it to be over soon so she could run home to him. They didn't have to fight anymore. It was Christmas Eve, they could just snuggle up and watch the snow fall. They could swap stories of opening gifts and Santa Claus. Maybe if Harry triumphed fast enough they could even snap a Christmas tree into place._

_Her hand slid down into her pocket, rubbing her thumb against the velvet coating of the small box held there. She could give it to him on Christmas Eve as she had always hoped. A goofy grin was on her face as she constantly checked every shadow for a lurking enemy._

_That's when he appeared, standing next to his father. Her expression mirrored his own, a desperate sort of shock. Her mouth went dry as her soul shivered with fear. She backed away a few steps, wondering if she could just turn around and pretend they never ran into each other._

_"Ah, mudblood. Admitting defeat, are we?" was the dull, mocking voice of his father. He tapped his wand calmly against his temple. "My, my, whatever shall we do with you."_

_"Wait, father," the boy spoke softly. He took a step towards Hermione, his eyes tragically searching hers for an answer, some salvation, anything would suffice. _

_Stupid. It was all so stupid._

Hermione felt the tears stirring up and she cleared her throat. The bickering boys paused to send a glance her way. Both set of eyes were filled to the brim with pity. She stood up swiftly, unable to gracefully accept such a feeling.

"If you'll excuse me," her monotone voice spoke as she gave a curt nod. She headed towards the back of the tavern to take refuge in the restrooms. Despite wanting to leave, she felt an obligation to stay knowing he always loved a good party.

Once inside she peeked under every stall for sight of some nosy little girls. Seeing none she crouched beside the sinks, pulling out her flask. She took a quick swig of the crimson wine that had always been his favorite. The girl jerked up abruptly, sputtering out the drink and dry heaving into the sink. That was when the tears finally broke loose and the violent shrieks overcame her as she leaned her forehead against the dingy mirrors. Blood. Why did everything always have to taste like him?

_"Son, step down," Lucius spoke coldly. But it was his eyes that tormented Hermione. They never showed her anything. There was not even a small spark of humanity hidden inside them._

_"I'm sure there is something else we could do," the boy offered up meekly. _

_"Yes, I'm sure there is," Lucius nodded and Hermione understood at that very moment. She scanned her lover all over for signs of his wand, but he had stashed it away upon sight of her. Desperately, she jerked her wand towards Lucius. Her lips were parted and there was a crack of a sound escaping them within a mere instant but she was still too slow._

_Draco shrieked as he crumpled towards the ground. He gasped out her name as she rushed to catch him. He was dead by the time her arms had wrapped fully around him. She rocked back and forth steadily on her heels moaning his name ten times over, praying that somehow it would make him return to her._

_"Now, none of that. He wasn't even worth the energy for an Unforgivable," Lucius reprimanded her. He yanked the girl back to her feet, a demonic grin on his face as he casually tossed away the dagger that had just destroyed his own son. It landed softly on Draco's chest. "But you, dumb girl, are worth the energy for thousands. What a Merry Christmas, don't you agree? A pity there is no mistletoe hanging around."_

_Hermione licked her lips nervously and that's when she tasted it. His blood on her lips. But it was cold, reminding her too sharply of how his heart would never beat for her again. Shivers raced up and down her entire body. That's when the scream escaped. All she could take comfort in was the beautiful green glow that smothered the room as she collapsed back besides Draco._

Harry raced into the bathroom, grabbing Hermione into a violent, desperate hug. He sobbed into her hair, holding the screaming girl tight.

_Hermione curled herself next to Draco, wrapping her limbs all around him. They fit so perfectly together. Her entire body was heaving with tears as she tried to entice him back to life. She murmured all their future plans into his ear and reminded him of all the dreams they concocted together. She pointed out that it was the holiday season and that Voldemort was dead by now. They didn't have to worry anymore. They couldn't be on opposing sides anymore. She asked him if he thought it was fair that they had made it so far yet still didn't receive their happy ending. Mainly, though, she repeatedly told him how much she loved him._

_They found her there, still chattering away to the corpse a few hours later. To Hermione, however, there was no time after that. Once they led her away from Draco, there was nothing. Her heart beat but her soul had died. She was never alive again after that moment._

Harry led Hermione down the road, holding her tightly as though protecting her from the entire world. They both collapsed to their knees as she stared up vacantly at the stone. So delicately etched on it was the name of her soulmate. Harry massaged her shoulders softly as the snow seeped through his jeans and his heart continued breaking.

"Let's wish him a Merry Christmas," he whispered to her as his own voice cracked. It wasn't that he missed the boy. He just missed the girl Draco's death had also stolen.

"Harry," Hermione began. The boy started at the sound of his name coming from her lips. It had been so long since she had actually addressed him. "Where.. where do I go from here? What do I do when my dreams all include him? Why can't I be down there with him?" With every question, her voice shook more and more.

"Those are questions I truly can't answer," was all Harry could offer her tattered spirit.

She nodded in acceptance of his reply as even she couldn't answer herself. Her frail fingers traced over the markings on his grave. She pressed her lips softly against his name before slowly rising to her feet.

"Merry Christmas, Draco," she whispered gently before wandering back out into the trivial lights of the city and Harry knew he would never see his Hermione again.


End file.
